Phineas Black and the Horned Abomination and Other Stories
by herbertpocket
Summary: A collection of stories from Newt Scamander's childhood and Hogwarts years. Newt acquires a dinosaur, speaks to snakes, tries to help his brother talk to girls, and much more.
1. Chapter 1

**Phineas Black and the Horned Abomination**

Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black stared at the beast and the beast gazed placidly back. The astronomy tower had expanded magically to accommodate its considerable bulk, but in spite of that, its enormous feathered rump was pressed against the barrier and one of its forelegs was hanging over the edge. Phineas closed his eyes, gave his head a quick shake, and opened them again. The beast was still there. It gave a gentle snort and peered at him over its horn.

"Astonishing," Professor Dumbledore smiled, and Headmaster Black shot him a glare.

They were standing on the parapet, broomsticks in hand, having been forced to fly up to the tower since the creature was blocking the staircase.

The thing was about the size of a young Swedish Short-snout and was decidedly reptilian in appearance, though it was covered in soft golden feathers. There was some sort of bony ridge around its neck, rather like the stiff collars that had been fashionable when the Headmaster was a boy. Two deadly-looking horns protruded over its eyes, and a third near its mouth, which rather resembled a beak. Fortunately, it was not breathing fire and seemed to be of a placid temperament.

And the boy responsible for the whole mess was happily perched on the beast's horned snout, feeding it handfuls of hay as if it were a pet pony.

"Mr. Scamander," Headmaster Black said through gritted teeth, "would you kindly explain why there is a large, flightless dragon atop the astronomy tower?"

The boy mumbled something without looking up.

"Speak up, boy! And look at me when you're speaking to me!"

Reluctantly, the boy tore his gaze away from the creature and addressed the Headmaster's shoes. "It's not a dragon, it's a dinosaur. _Triceratops prorsus,_ to be precise. They're quite different from dragons, sir. They're entirely non-magical, not to mention extinct – "

" _What?_ " The Headmaster stared at him. "What do you mean, extinct?"

Scamander sighed. "Extinct, sir, means that a species has no more living members."

"I know what the word means!" Headmaster Black snapped. "If there are no more living members, then what in Merlin's name is this one doing here?"

"Oh." Scamander blinked owlishly. "Well, you see, sir, I made it."

"You did _what?_ "

Dumbledore hopped off the parapet and patted the creature's horn, his eyes bright with interest. "That is a _very_ impressive feat of transfiguration, Mr. Scamander – to transfigure such a large animal without having seen a living specimen."

The Headmaster frowned. Dumbledore, as usual was completely missing the point.

"I didn't transfigure it, sir," Newt said. "I used Polyjuice, with an owl as the starting point. Dinosaurs may look reptilian, but in fact they're much more closely related to birds. Anyway, he flew away before the polyjuice could take effect, which is how he ended up here."

Dumbledore smiled. "I suppose that would also explain why this handsome fellow is covered in feathers."

"No, sir. I think the dinosaur was like that naturally."

Dumbledore gave Scamander a look of mild bemusement. "My dear boy," he said, "it is common knowledge that dinosaurs had scales."

"That's what the Muggles think," Scamander said stubbornly. Dumbledore opened his mouth to protest, but Headmaster Black decided that this had gone on long enough.

"Mr. Scamander," he said sternly, "I really think – "

"What did you put in the Polyjuice?" Dumbledore asked as if he had not spoken. "Did you use bone?"

"I tried that," Scamander said. "Only, most fossils don't contain any of the original osseous tissue. It's all been converted to inorganic mineral compounds as part of the fossilization process. So they're not a viable sample for Polyjuice potion."

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course, of course."

Headmaster Black glanced between them, perplexed. "What does that mean?"

Scamander looked at Dumbledore for help.

"What the boy means," Dumbledore said, "is that any surviving bones have been chemically converted – that's a sort of non-magical transfiguration – into stone. And naturally, one cannot put stone in a Polyjuice potion."

The Headmaster frowned. _Non-magical transfiguration?_ What a ridiculous notion.

"What did you use instead?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Oh, that bit's quite interesting." Scamander had lost most of his shyness, though he still would not make eye contact. "You see, insects are some of the oldest creatures in the world. Older than dinosaurs, even. And millions of years ago, when the dinosaurs were still alive, there were lots of mosquitoes and biting insects that fed on them. Most of them died and rotted away, of course, but some landed on trees and got stuck in bits of sap, which hardened over time and became amber. Of course, then I had to dissolve the amber and leave the insects intact, which took some doing, and then Summon the dinosaur blood out of the insects' stomach. And after that, all I had to do was put a little replication charm on the blood so I'd have enough to use in the Polyjuice, and that was that."

"Remarkable!" Dumbledore was staring at the boy as though he were an absolute marvel rather than the perpetrator of quite possibly the most ridiculous stunt Hogwarts had ever seen. "

"Mr. Scamander!" the Headmaster snapped. The dinosaur narrowed its eyes at him, and he glared back at it and lowered his voice. "Mr. Scamander, I don't think you understand the gravity of this situation. For one thing, you are a third-year student. What possessed you to brew _polyjuice potion_ unsupervised? That potion is _incredibly_ dangerous – "

"Well, I wouldn't give it to the owl just like that!" Newt said indignantly. "I tried a bit myself, first – "

"Not to mention the damage that this creature might have caused!" The Headmaster gave the boy his most imperious stare. "Did you consider that at all, before undertaking this venture?"

"It's not as though he's dangerous," Scamander protested, placing his arms protectively around the creature's horn. "He's herbivorous. A _velociraptor mongoliensis,_ now, _that_ could cause some damage – "

"That will do, Mr. Scamander," said Dumbledore quickly. "The Headmaster is quite right, you did not adequately think this through. Allowing the owl to escape was a serious oversight. This tower will need to be closed to be inspected for structural damage. And suppose it had transformed in midair?"

Headmaster Black suppressed a shudder at the thought. He was rather relieved that Dumbledore had, for once, decided to take a reasonable view on things.

"Which is why we must discuss the matter of consequences," said Dumbledore sternly. "You will have detention under my supervision four evenings a week for the next month. You will conduct a thorough literature review to support your theory on animal-to-animal Polyjuice transformations. You will standardize and document your methodology for blood extraction and replication, and confirm that the procedure is reproducible under controlled conditions. Furthermore, you will prepare a report explaining your findings. I expect a minimum of ten academic sources and an appropriately organized bibliography. Furthermore," Dumbledore continued, "you will clean up all the droppings that your creature has left in the astronomy tower, and write a letter of apology to the Astronomy professor for disrupting his classes. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Scamander?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore." Scamander looked stunned, and even Headmaster Black was a bit taken aback. He'd thought to have the boy scrubbing out cauldrons.

"Really, Albus," he said quietly. "Don't you think that's a bit much? The boy is only in his third year."

"Youth does not excuse shoddy scholarship," Dumbledore said gravely, fixing the Headmaster with his steely blue gaze. "If Mr. Scamander wishes to brew experimental potions, he must be held to the same standards as any other researcher."

"Ah – yes, of course, quite right," stammered Headmaster Black, feeling a bit like a dissected specimen under that stare. Professor Dumbledore was a charming fellow, but there was a certain _look_ that he got at times that made one wonder exactly what he would become. Surely a man such as that would not be content to grade student papers for the rest of his life.

"Very well," he said. "Mr. Scamander, you will report to Professor Dumbledore for your detentions. How much time is left on that Polyjuice?"

The boy checked his pocket watch. "About ten minutes now, sir."

Headmaster Black suppressed a sigh of relief. "Good. Please remain here and secure the owl once it regains its regular form. Albus," he said, turning to the Transfiguration professor, "may I ask you to wait with the boy in case of any…complications?"

"Certainly," said Dumbledore, beaming as if he would enjoy nothing more than supervising a ten-tonne lizard.

"Thank you," said the Headmaster, and left the astronomy tower before anything else could happen.

Newt watched as the Headmaster flew down from the tower. Professor Dumbledore remained, ruffling the feathers on the creature's snout.

Newt glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, thinking hard. The punishment hadn't been what he was expecting. In fact, it was hardly a punishment at all.

"Professor," he said, "what you said before, about 'reproducing the procedure under controlled conditions', did you mean – " he swallowed. "Did you mean that you want me to make more dinosaurs?"

"Well, an experiment is hardly worth much if it cannot be repeated," said Professor Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "And while this fellow is a little on the large side, I think a nice little _aquilops americanus_ couldn't hurt. Don't you agree?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Excellent." Dumbledore smiled. "Oh, and Mr. Scamander? If you do good work on your report, we might just see about getting it submitted to the Journal of Magizoology."


	2. The Parselmouth

The Parselmouth

Headmaster Phineas Black was having a most unsatisfactory morning.

The ceiling of the Great Hall was leaking again, and a demon had taken up residence in the second floor lavatories. To make matters worse, some enterprising jokester had charmed the potions classroom into a quicksand bog that had nearly swallowed a dozen first-years. And to top it all off, two of the new teachers had been reading about some pesky muggles called Marx and Engels and were threatening to form a union.

Headmaster Black rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a swallow of coffee laced with firewhisky. _One thing at a time,_ he told himself, and reached for the estimate that the contractors had provided for repairing the ceiling.

"Excuse me, Professor?"

Black looked up to see a tousled brown head peering round the door, and suppressed a groan. "Scamander. What have you done this time?"

The boy blinked at him. "What, sir?"

"I mean," Black said through gritted teeth, "what have you done to get yourself sent to my office? If it's a repeat of the flobberworm incident – "

The boy ducked his head and scuffed his feet on the floor. "I'm not being punished," he mumbled. "I-I've come to talk to you."

Black looked at him in surprise. The Scamander boy generally tended to view the staff with the wariness that most people reserved for nundus and lethifolds, so if something had brought him to the Headmaster's office, it must be serious indeed.

"Very well, Mr. Scamander. Take a seat."

Scamander edged into the room and perched on the very edge of his chair. He glanced nervously at the Headmaster, the portraits, and the bookshelves lining the walls, before his gaze finally settled on the wolf skull that Headmaster Black used as a paper weight.

Black began to grow impatient. "Out with it, boy!" he snapped. "I don't have all day!"

The boy flinched and seemed to shrink in on himself. Then he took a deep breath, apparently gathering his nerve.

"I think…" he hesitated, and swallowed hard. "I think someone's trapped, sir."

" _Trapped?"_ Black stared at him in alarm. "What do you mean? Has some idiot shut himself in the vanishing cabinet again?"

Scamander shook his head. "He's in the basement, sir, I could hear him through the walls. I think – I think he might be stuck in the pipes."

Black sighed. "Don't be absurd, boy. The pipes are not nearly large enough to fit a person."

"Oh, but he's not a person, sir," Scamander said at once. "He's a snake."

"A _what?_ "

"A snake, sir. I think there's a snake trapped in the pipes and I don't know how to get him out."

Headmaster Black stared at the boy for a moment, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then opened them again.

"Mr. Scamander," he said levelly, "is this your idea of a joke?"

"A joke?" Scamander looked up in indignation. "Sir, I wouldn't joke about this!"

Black glowered at the boy, building up to a towering rage. _Insolent little whelp, wasting my time with this nonsense._ He opened his mouth, about to unleash the tirade of the century, when Scamander spoke again.

"Sir, please!" he said urgently. "We've got to get him out. He told me he hasn't eaten in ages, we've got to feed him – "

Headmaster Black sputtered to a halt, completely taken aback. "He – told you? Mr. Scamander, do you mean to say that you are a parselmouth?"

Scamander shook his head. "No, but I've got a conversational primer and I've been teaching myself. Lucy and Izzie say I've got a terrible accent though."

"And these are…other Parselmouths? Students?"

"No, they're grass snakes, sir. Anyway, Izzie got loose in the basement one evening, and I was walking about and calling to her, only a different snake answered instead. He kept saying he was hungry, and that he hadn't anything to eat."

Black opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closet it again.

"Anyway, I asked how I could get him out, and he said something about the egg of the great snake and a secret nest."

Black stared. " _Eggs?_ It's laying _eggs_ in there?"

"No, sir, I think the egg is supposed to come from somewhere else. He's waiting for it, he can't eat until it gets there – "

"Mr. Scamander," Black interrupted, "while this is a fascinating insight into the thought processes of reptiles, I fail to see why this cannot be handled by the caretaker – "

"No, that's not all, sir! He said the Great Snake made the nest out of stones. And when I asked who the Great Snake was, he said he was warm and walked on legs!" Scamander looked at him expectantly.

"Scamander, I'm asking you again – "

"Don't you see, sir? The great snake _isn't_ a snake, it's a wizard!" The boy was on his feet, a fevered look in his eyes. "Snakes are cold-blooded, so a wizard would feel warm to them. Snakes don't make nests out of stone – but wizards build stone buildings. And the egg – that's only a rough translation, it could also be a son or a child." Scamander looked at him desperately. "Sir, someone trapped that snake in there _on purpose_ and made him wait all by himself for years and years!"

Headmaster Black opened his mouth to deliver a scathing retort, then hesitated. Could it be true? Some great beast lurking deep in the bowels of the castle, waiting…there had been those rumours, after all, when he was a boy – but no, that was absurd. This was _Hogwarts,_ for Merlin's sake – the very idea was ludicrous! The boy's imaginings must be catching.

"That's enough!" he snapped, getting up from his seat and glaring down at the boy. "Mr. Scamander, you have come into my office uninvited, led me to believe that a student was in danger, wasted my time on a ridiculous story about eggs and nests, and come up with a fairytale that even a Muggle would find ridiculous. _Have you quite finished?"_

Scamander stared at him, wide-eyed. "But – but sir, we can't just leave him – "

" _No, I do not!_ " the Headmaster shouted. "I am the Headmaster of this school! My job is to keep you hooligans from killing each other and bringing the castle down on our heads, and ensure that you get some semblance of an education. It is _not_ to attend to the welfare of every rat and mouse and lizard that scuttles into this building. And if I hear another word about this snake of yours, I shall send an exterminator to deal with him! Do I make myself clear?"

Scamander took a step back, his face pale. Then he turned and hurried from the room.

Black watched him go, and felt a twinge of remorse. Perhaps he had been too hard on the boy…but then he remembered the stack of paperwork waiting for him and shook his head grimly.

He sat down and took a swig of firewhisky straight from the bottle.

"Children," he muttered. "The nonsense they come up with."


End file.
